


Revelations

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Ground Zero [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is in bad shape, and it takes some odd teamwork between the Joker and Alfred to get him patched up. Even then, he's far from clear from danger with the Clown Prince of Crime lurking in the Batcave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revelations

Once he had neared his destination, Bruce had set the tumbler on autopilot and had the windows closed off, so that neither of his guests could see out. The function was relatively new, and he knew that within about a mile or two it worked perfectly, but he hadn’t trusted it yet to have the computer guide him completely out of Gotham.

“Clever,” the Joker muttered as Bruce was reaching for another button and Harley was squirming in the tiny seat against him. He put an arm around her and idly stroked her shoulder, eyes intent on the Bat.

“Alfred,” he said, and a moment of silence before a voice responded.

“Yes, sir?”

“I have some...guests coming back with me. We’re a bit banged up.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” the Joker said with a snort- and at the sound of his voice Alfred spoke in a brittle, stiff tone.

“I’ll be ready, sir.”

And, true to his word, Alfred was there the moment they stepped into the Bat cave. Bruce was leaning on the Joker, who seemed focused on keeping steadying footing with Bruce’s heavier weight added to his own- while Harley let her eyes roam everywhere, ignoring the aches rising in what felt like every inch of her body.

The Joker helped Bruce sit up on the table he himself had been on the night before, and Alfred peered down at his thigh, wincing.

“One of these days you’ll come back to me _carrying_ a leg, sir.”

The Joker laughed at this, grinning.

“I like him,” he said, jerking a thumb to Alfred who, despite himself, cracked a small smile, and set to examining Bruce’s thigh. The Joker called Harley over, who had wondered a bit, but came bouncing at the sound of his voice, and hopped up onto the table next to Bruce.

“This plate was not secured correctly,” Alfred said, pushing aside a piece or armor that should have helped keep the wood from ever piercing Bruce. Bruce frowned- his mind had been far from the suit evening when he was getting dressed-

It had been on the man next to him, that seething ball of energy and laughs that seemed to have infected him.

Alfred numbed his leg and dosed Bruce with a pain killer before he even tried to remove the splinter. Still, when he began to pull on it, Bruce felt bile in his throat and jerked, angry at himself because it hurt _so badly_ and he couldn’t deny it.

“C’mon pumpkin,” the Joker said, guiding Harley off the table, “Daddy will take a look at you in a minute. I think our Bat here is in a bit more, ah, dire need.”

Harley nodded, but swayed a bit when she landed on the floor, leaning on the Joker and clutching at his jacket. Her legs felt like jelly- she wasn’t sure she wanted to see the array of bruises she might have beneath her clothes.

The Joker scooped her up carefully and walked away as Alfred guided Bruce to lay down on the table. He walked over to the many screens that lined the wall, and set her down carefully in the plush computer chair in front of them.

“Don’t touch anything,” he said, tapping her nose with his index finger, and her belly felt oddly warm and slick from the affection. She nodded and leaned back, closing her eyes as he crossed the darkness, back to Bruce and Alfred and the one blinding light they had turned on so Alfred could see what he was doing.

He leaned against the table, back to where he had left Harley, and watched as Alfred strapped down Batman’s leg. Then, hands now gloved and holding a set of glorified tongs, he began to pull the wood out of Bruce’s leg, which had separated into multiple splinters at this point.

Bruce tossed his head but clamped his mouth shut, body tensing. The wood came free saturated with blood, turning black and moist. The Joker watched as the liquid welled up form the wound and spelled down Bruce’s thigh, onto the table, spilled from the exit wound as well. When Alfred had gotten all the debris out of his leg, he wrapped a torn piece of fabric around the leg tightly as a tourniquet, then cut at the suit to expose more of the skin. He tossed a rag to the Joker, who caught it and raised a delicate eyebrow.

“I’ve got to stitch it up,” he said, “when I say so, clean the blood off him so I can see.”

The Joker hesitated a moment, then nodded and leaned over Bruce to watch Alfred’s knowing hands move with such precision he was mildly jealous.

The stitching didn’t hurt nearly as much, and at this point the pain medication had kicked in, and Bruce was wonderfully numb to what they were doing. He heard Alfred’s voice when he’d instruct the Joker, but the words were like liquid in the air, garbled and incoherent. He only knew when the stitching was done because the Joker appeared up near his face, had leaned over him to run the back of his hand over his cheek.

“Nice to see you’re, ah, human Bats. Like the _rest_ of us.” He leaned closer, looked at the hazy near black that stared back at him in Bruce’s eyes, and smiled. Alfred was busy cleaning and disinfecting the area one final time, leaving the Joker a blessed moment to enjoy his drugged up Bat.

The corners of his lips quirked up just a bit more when his Bat actually smiled _at him_ and reached a guantletted hand up, sinking it into his green hair. _Oh, those drugs must be qui-te the trip._ His brain reminded him what those hands felt like free of armor in his hair, against his scalp, and he shivered, closing the gap and pressing his mouth to Bruce’s placid one. The vigilante followed his lips’ rhythm- he was too high at this point to create his own- but his hand tightened in the Joker’s hair and he tried to raised up a bit to meet him- the motion making Alfred flick his eyes up-

Instead of reacting, he looked back at the wound, his mind filing this away for a conversation when Bruce wasn’t flying high as a kite. As for the moment, he had no intention of intervening. Bruce lip locking with one of the most insane men of Gotham? There were probably things worse.

_Probably._

The Joker was the one to pull back- to fight the heat rising in his blood and tell himself it was _just a kiss_ and now was not the time to try and make it anything more. Instead he left Bruce in Alfred’s soothing hands with a trail of fingers down his armored chest, and walked back through the darkness to Harley.

She was slumped back in the chair, staring up through heavy lids into the dark. When he placed a hand on her shoulder, she barely moved- and _that_ was what sent his heart racing.

“Harley,” he said, and she looked at him through her lashes, her lips moving but no sound coming out. “Shit.” He scooped her back up, took another walk through darkness to appear just as Alfred was straightening up. He looked at the woman, and then was beckoning for the Joker to follow, leading him over to a counter where he could lay her down.

“She was fine a minute ago,” he said, his voice a bit shrill- another note Alfred made. If Bruce couldn’t be here to take meticulous mental notes of how these two acted, he would simply have to do it and fill him in.

He leaned over Harley, pulling on one of her eyelids to look at her eyes. “Can you say something, dear?” he asked, and Harley moved her lips, but the words were just breath.

Behind Alfred, the Joker was pacing now, hands clenching, unclenching, teeth grating together.

“She’s got some bruising forming here,” Alfred said, pushing some of her hair to the side. “Did she hit her head?”

“Possibly,” the Joker admitted. “I, ah, didn’t see much once Bane threw her around.” Alfred frowned.

“Anyone thrown by Bane should be in the ICU. Her and Br- Batman included.” Alfred caught himself, falling out of his tense state for a moment because the Joker seemed so _human_ suddenly. He seemed, however, not to notice the butler’s slip.

“Bane threw me, and I’m fine.”

“Then you’re a miracle. That man is a monster.” He ran a hand down Harley’s side, and she winced. “I need you to check her for bruises.”

“Why me?” The Joker stopped pacing, and Alfred sighed.

“I’m sure she’d prefer someone she _know_ undressing and inspecting her, than some strange man.” The Joker hesitated, then slipped between him and Harley, and Alfred turned his back, looking off at Bruce as he lay in his drug induced rest. The medication would wear off in two, maybe three hours. Ir was just enough to get him through the cleaning of the wound and give his body a few hours of much need recovery.

“If you find bruising, let me know. I’ll need to know where, and how large.”

The Joker guided Harley’s vest off, tossing it to the floor, and pushed her shirt up over her breasts, letting it rest on the top of her bra. Her body was far from something new and mysterious to him, but something about this was unnerving.

“Her ribs,” he said, looking at her left and right side. “The right. The left is fine.”

“How much bruising?”

“A lot, over her whole side, to the end of her, ah, rib cage.” He traced down, stopped when the bone and color ended, and let his thumb stroke her skin.

“Press on her stomach and tell me how she reacts.”

The Joker moved his hands and did as he was told. Harely groaned a little, but that was it. “Barely,” he breathed, and Alfred nodded.

“Good, good. I was worried about internal bleeding. She’s got a concussion I’d say, we need to get her awake but keep her resting. Can you check the rest of her for bruising?”

“Not without stripping her _naked_ ,” the Joker replied, pulling her shirt back down. Alfred _tsked_ , then turned around.

“Alright, we’ll just have to assume she’s got more bruising we can’t see. We should move her, I’d like to get her sitting in a chair. She needs to be awake for a few hours, to make sure she doesn’t have any serious damage, and then she can rest. Can you carry her?”

“Of course,” the Joker said, frowning- as if he didn’t possess the strength to list her again. He was gentler this time- watching his hands, avoiding her ribs and following Alfred as he retrieved the chair Harley had originally been placed in and set it up by Bruce. The Joker gently placed Harley in it as Alfred excused himself for a minute to get a few things, with the command that the Joker get Harley as conscious as he could.

“Harley,” he whispered, crouching down so he had to look up at her. She had begun to come to a bit, but her eyes were a blue fog. He placed his hands on her thighs and squeezed gently. “Hey pumpkin, open your eyes.”

She opened them more, looked down at him, and he smiled.

“That’s daddy’s girl.” He leaned up, closer, watched her eyes following her.

“Wha...what’s going on?”

“You hit your head, kid,” he said, “Or, Bane hit your head. Probably a lot.” A gentle squeeze to her thighs. “Remember any of it?”

“Sorta,” she admitted, reaching up to rub her temples. “My head is _pounding_ , Puddin’.”

The Joker smiled, but didn’t say a word more.

He sat up with Alfred for two more hours, before the butler finally said it was alright for Harley to get some sleep. She could stand and walk when he asked her to- albeit with a bit of pain- and she had regained her clarity- though she was quiet, tired he was sure and aching.

He didn’t want to give her anything yet, and told her someone would wake her up every two or so hours, just to be safe. She only nodded and gladly accepted the blanket that he wrapped around her, before curling up in the chair.

“Two hours,” he said, as a reminder to himself and the Joker- to which the clown nodded. “And our other patient should be waking up soon.”

“Good,” the Joker said, looking over at Batman, who slept- for once. He rested his hip against the table and felt just how empty he was- the exhaustion taking everything out of him. “Do you ever sleep?” he asked, looking over at Alfred, who was cleaning up.

“Sometimes,” he said, and the Joker just laughed at this.

Bruce’s eyes opened about twenty minutes later. He blinked away the sluggish feeling the drugs had left, and sat up slowly. His leg had been unstrapped and bandages up, the plate he had secured incorrectly removed and the fabric of the suit cut. When he stirred Alfred made his way over, placing a hand against his back to help him steady himself.

“How are you feeling, sir?”

“I’ve felt better,” Bruce admitted, examining Harley’s sleeping frame in the chair close by. Alfred followed his eyes.

“Concussion I believe, sir. We’re waking her up every few hours. She took quite a beating. I’d say you all did, but your other...guest hasn’t admitted to any pain or injuries.”

Bruce fallowed Alfred’s eyes, saw the lithe man pacing in the shadows.

“He doesn’t sit still, this one,” Alfred said.

“No, he really doesn’t.” Bruce swung his legs over the table, winced, but the pain was much less than earlier. “Why don’t you go get a few hours of sleep. I’ll make sure to wake Harley up.” Alfred went to open his mouth, but Bruce held his hand up. “I don’t think we’ll get any trouble from them tonight. The night’s over in a few hours, anyway.”

Alfred sighed, nodded, and took his leave, albeit at a slow pace. When he was finally gone Bruce pulled his gauntlets off, then reached up to rub his neck.

“Gonna come out of the shadows and talk to me?”

He waited a moment, and then the Joker appeared. He was holding his jacket, had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Bruce could see one forearm had a nasty bruise on it.

“Good to see you _up_ , Bats.” He winked, and Bruce rolled his eyes, but patted the table next to him. The Joker took the silent invitation and sat down next to him, leaning his elbows on his thighs and slouching. “Sleep well?”

“If you can call that sleep, I guess I did.” He looked over at Harley. “She took quite a beating.” The Joker nodded. “You’d get your ass kicked without her.”

The Joker chuckled. “But she wouldn’t exist without me. It’s an, ah, even exchange, really.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, but looked at the Joker through the corner of his eyes, the way he was watching Harley sleep. He’d seen them in action together before- he remembered how abrasive the clown was to her, the abuse- this all seemed so different.

Maybe he’d never watched closely enough to see any tenderness at all.

“Do you love her?” It was a sudden, simple question, one that the Joker let hang in the air as he watched her pull the blanket closer, twist a bit in her sleep, before he finally turned and look at Bruce.

“Define love, Batsy darling,” he said. “In your overly romantic idealized sense of the word- no. Nonono _no_.” He sat up straighter. “But she’s important to me.”

“So you do care.” The Joker clicked his tongue, licked his lips before speaking- Bruce noticed his paint was smudged and faded.

“I care, because she’s the only hope Gotham has.” Bruce tilted his had, confused, but the man didn’t elaborate at all, just sat there, watching her sleep. Tired, too tried in fact to press much of any issue, Bruce let it drop. He’d have the time to pry later- as it seemed, her was going to be stuck with the Joker for quite some time.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Bruce offered. “I’ll keep an eye on her.” The Joker turned fully to him and laughed.

“ _Sleep_ , Bats? Where? On this lovely cold slab here?”

“You slept just fine last night.”

“You thought that was _sleeping_? Oh Bats, Bats Bats Bats, you are too trusting.” He leaned closer, reached one hand up and gripped onto Bruce’s armor. “I was awake the whole time. _I_ don’t need sleep.”

Then he kissed Bruce, and the vigilante wondered for a moment if the man was even human. Regardless of the truth of that, he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer, groaned when he bumped into his wounded thigh- gave the Joker the advantage to slip his tongue into Bruce’s rather eager- though he’d never admit it- mouth. His arms wound their way around Bruce’s neck as his fingers and nails scraped at the cowl, begged for hair to sink into.

Bruce barely noticed- his hands feeling the curve of the man’s Back through his shirt- one being as bold as to cup his ass- which made the Joker purr into his mouth.

There was something hot and viral growing in Burce, a passion he wasn’t used to. The man really did something to him, he could admit _that_ much, and whether he liked it or not, he seemed unable to deny or even fight it in the least. Part of him wondered if, just maybe, if the Joker didn’t create such a hot fire in his gut, if he could have denied ever working with him, ever making some sick deal to help him take the city, in order to stay in the looop of this war. Couldn’t he have just used his resources and detective skills, as always, to stay on top of things? Couldn’t he have handled it on his own and taken _every single one of these madmen_ down?

Probably- but god, with the clown around, it seemed impossible for the world to turn without his help. It was terrifying.

Bruce didn’t notice when those fingers found a slight gap between his suit and cowl- the feeling of broken latches form being thrown around so much. He didn’t feel the air as it began to lift- but the moment it was pulled completely up and tossed to the side his eyes shot open- his blood freezing in his veins.

While it may have been the Joker’s hands that had unmasked him, the man seemed almost uninterested- his eyes closed as he still kissed Bruce. It was only when Bruce finally managed to convince his lips to stop responding that those glorious toxic eyes opened and bore into Bruce. He leaned back, grinned, and let his eyes drink in Bruce’s naked face.

“My my my,” he said, “Of all the masks you could wear, Batsy, a rich little playboy is _indeed_ a highly unlikely one. Good job.” He reached up, let his thumb stroke Bruce’s cheek. “Now that there are no _secrets_ between us, how about you take us somewhere more comfortable-“

Bruce swallowed, his heart thudding in his chest-

“Bruce.”

The moment his name left those painted lips, his heart plummeted down to his gut- but something about it sent shivers through his body that he had to fight with a passion to keep form showing.

It was going to be a _very_ long night.

**Author's Note:**

> So I put off my finals to get one more fic out! Thanks for reading, hopefully I'll get another update out within a week. We'll see :)


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